A/N: So, here's a little shorty to add to the collection, tell me what you think, do you like this kind of writing? Would you prefer a lighter tone? Wheat or rye? orange or Yellow?

For god sake, review. I'm dying here.

"Joseph, can you at least tell me why?" she said, fretting about her son like the mother of a litter of two, swiping off miniscule bits of dirt on the uniform he wore.

They were standing next to the truck in the parking lot, partly because he couldn't stand his mother walking him to the Jacinto train stop like a six year old, and partly because his family couldn't bear to look at him, for fear of remembering his face when the big men in the too-small suits swept past.

"It's for the world, ma. 'Every man with the strength to carry a gun and point it at the enemy accepted!' 'For freedom!' They need me out there, stomping the Locust, and they'll pay. At the end of this war, the COG'll have so much money and food that Sera's tunnels will get filled right back up!"

The face of his mother, usually so kind and forgiving, was a mask of indifference. They both knew what would come of this talk, they'd had it a million times before.

She tugged out a wrinkle from his collar, frowning. "You'd do twice as good at the farm, where you're actually needed. Empty bellies stop men faster than a line full'a Locust, I'll tell you."

Joseph grasped his mother by the arms, kissed her on her wrinkled forehead, and smiled at her. "First long leave I get, I'll come home and work the fields. I promise."

He picked up his duffel bag, hefting hundreds of pounds onto his shoulder in one smooth motion, hugged his mother one last time with one arm, and pulled down his beret.

When he boarded the train, looking out the window, he could see his mother wave one frail arm to him, before the train lurched with frightening speed to the rest of his life.

A/N: so, yes. Short. I've been writing vignettes for a few weeks, so this is all I could do. Thanks for reading, review!